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50 shades of ordinary

At our friends’ home over diet coke we discussed writing, politics and books, not all in that order. My friend joked, “You know what your next book should be about? You should do your version of Fifty Shades of Grey.”

I laughed, “Like how things really are. The other side of Fifty Shades of Grey. Like un-erotica.”

My husband Scott offers up, “Yeah, like how you go to bed at 9.”

I said, “Or how you fall asleep downstairs to the TV with all your clothes on.” I found him a few days ago at 7:31am on the couch in a dress shirt, jeans and socks, fast asleep under the blanket his Nana made. We cuddled a little on the couch at 7:32.

On the way home from our friends’ house I took stock of our married life, the many ways we differ from that book.

I don’t call him Sir. It’s either Scott or Dude.

There is no dungeon-esqe room where the lines of pain and pleasure are blurred, only a dimly lit basement with kids’ toys, Lego to trip you, and a closet that holds the secrets of bad hairdos and musical tastes.

We don’t have bodyguards or caretakers or cooks. Security is a key and an umbrella. We cook or order pizza from Jim’s. I do the laundry and then leave it in the basket at the foot of our bed for a week. No one buys clothes for me because it’s my cardio and creative outlet, and woe to the person who would try to take that away from me.

No one saunters in our house except maybe Ben, my seven year old. No one sashays either.

I don’t have an ‘inner goddess’. There is a voice that reminds me to calm down when I’m irate that Scott left me to empty the grounds container of the espresso machine. My soul leaps when he mows the lawn or buys me chocolate treats. My inner goddess dances around the fridge, twirls a fork and declares, “He is a good man!”

On a rare night out, I swoon when Scott opens the door for me to the passenger side of the Jetta (leaving the minivan behind) and he slides into the driver’s seat. When we are alone in an elevator we do not succumb to desire as elevators often smell of other people’s food and potpourri.

Scott doesn’t wash or comb or braid my hair. However, yesterday he swept my hair back, piled it on top of my head until it flopped over my face as he laughed, “You look like a scarecrow!”

There aren’t emails full of innuendo. I send texts that say ‘please pick up milk’ or ‘be home by 5’ or the occasional naughty text thanks to autocorrect. Occasionally I will peel off my cardigan and send this text from our bedroom, “Are you coming to bed or what?”

LOVE this post. I can so relate. I once saw Steve Carell say in an interview that the most romantic thing he had done for his wife lately was ‘unload the diswasher’- and I totally get that. I always like the idea of a partnership rather than whatever 50 Shades had going on. This post was perfect mix of sincere amd funny, a tough combination. Well done!
(side note- your friends gave you diet coke AND inadvertently came up with a post idea? They sound awesome.)

I’ll take ordinary anytime over the unpredictability of passion fueled roller coaster ride relationships. Give me dependable, reliable, even what some may define as boring, but I would call contentment. The image of you snuggling on the couch with Scott at 7:32 is so very sweet. Lovely post, Heidi.

Love this one, you know I had fun with the 50 Shades as well… And I will take 50 ordinary shades of my family life (which is much like yours) any day over something as high maintenance as Christian Grey 🙂

BTW – about the Disqus: I seem to have the same problem on some blogs, I can’t “find myself” either, even though I have an account. I always know it’s you, though and I am glad we know who we are, even if Disqus doesn’t, lol 😉

Your take on the book was pretty awesome. Wouldn’t we call him abusive in real life? Also, that whole sub-conscious/inner goddess thing just about did me in. Blech!
I couldn’t resist doing something on it. That book is everywhere!

Heehee, I love this!!! So true. 50 Shades was such a fun read….but I feel much more comfortable in ordinary life.
Also? I’m relieved to know that we aren’t the only married couple that acts this way. 🙂

Brilliant post! Heidi, I laughed, and nodded by way through your words. You’re such a lovely writer, and a joy to read. I laughed out loud at, “I don’t call him Sir. It’s either Scott or Dude.” Hee hee … I can relate. Thanks for sharing your life.

Heidi Cave

Author of Fancy Feet:

In 1998 Heidi Cave was an active young woman looking forward to all the possibilities life had to offer. That all changed when her car was struck by a reckless driver going more than 100km/hr (60 mph), which resulted in a fight for her life.

Heidi had a choice to make; was she going to be a victim -- or a survivor? read more